The other day I was listening to Fresh Air on 88.5 WMNF the alternative radio station in Tampa Bay. It was one of those radio programs that takes highlights of programs from the past year and replays them between Christmas and New Years. One portion of the program especially caught my attention. It was about Alex, a talking parrot, and Irene Pepperberg, an animal cognition professor now at Harvard. This story caught my attention, in part, because I wrote about a talking bird in November. Another bird has taught me something about life and ministry.
The amazing thing about this bird is that it had an incredibly large vocabulary. Irene Pepperberg, a scientist, had lovingly taught the bird to talk. She rewarded the bird both with affection and by giving it items she knew the bird wanted. For example, when teaching the bird early on she gave the bird wood whenever the bird said, "wood." The bird liked to chew on wood therefore the bird was rewarded with wood. The bird learned to use over 150 words.
Professor Pepperberg said that many scientists had criticized her for not remaining neutral and distant from the bird. The idea of the critics was that you had to remain aloof and observe the bird with as little interaction as possible.
Other people were amazed at how many words the bird could speak. Pepperberg, the author the new book, Alex and Me, compared her efforts with teaching a child to talk. You don't remain aloof and keep your distance from a child when you teach children to talk, rather, you encourage them and help them. She told the radio audience that for decades scientists, who were observing birds in scientific studies, kept birds hungry and desperate for food in order to make them more eager for reenforcement when they said the right words for the scientists. This cruel form of manipulation only hindered the bird who was extremely hungry. Hungry children and hungry birds don't learn well. Is it really a surprise that a well fed and well cared for bird learned better than the unfortunate birds under the care of the aloof scientists?
In another report, Pepperberg"...recounts remarkable conversations, including the last interaction she shared with Alex the night he died of complications due to hardening of arteries. "You be good. I love you," he said, as she was leaving. "I love you, too," she replied. "You'll be in tomorrow?" he said. "Yes, I'll be in tomorrow." In a heartfelt conclusion, Pepperberg presents the case that Alex's surprising communication skills are proof that animals are far more more intelligent than humans have ever acknowledged.
I know it is a huge leap, but let me make a connection between this story of the talking bird and ministry in the last century, the 20th Century. It seems to me that many people made similar assumptions in the 20th Century as we practiced ministry as "professionals." Maybe clergy and lay persons treated each other more like the old school scientists treated the birds. Many theological seminary students were taught not to be friends with their future church members and were encouraged to approach ministry more as scientists than friends. Similarly, most lay persons related to clergy persons as paid professionals who were hired to be chaplains and were easily replaceable, like a test bird. This model has been falling apart for 25 years. Although there have been many exceptions to this generalization about the church, this aloof way of ministry by both laity and clergy was the norm, especially in the 1950s and 1960s.
The way we have organized congregations and the way we have practiced ministry is falling a part, and in many ways, I think it is a good thing. God is doing something new in the world and in the church. If we are willing to learn, let go of the past, and, welcome the new thing God is doing, I believe that God will help us create more authentic faith communities. We are invited to practice radical hospitality, focus on mission beyond the four walls of the church building and experience that amazing koinonia that the Book of Acts tells us about.
Like Alex, the talkative bird, we are far more capable of authentic community than we may have allowed. I wonder about what you are thinking? How do you experience the change all around us? Are you grieving the loss of the way church used to be? Or, are you excited about practicing ministry in a new way? I invite your comments. Please click "comments" below.
